Mallory and the ManStealer
by peebs
Summary: Mallory is out of college and well on her way to becoming a best-selling children's author, but all is not well in her life. Will her heart be broken? Will her old friends the Baby-Sitters help her out?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The BSC is Ann M. Martin's creation. This fic is just a pale imitation of some classic literature.

_Dear Ben,_

_I'm here in my new apartment- all by myself! No 10 brothers and sisters, no weird jock roommate, no best friend (Jessi and I are exactly the same, except for the fact that she's black and I'm white) staying here for the summer. I have one big room, a bathroom, and even a kitchen- THREE WHOLE ROOMS TO MYSELF! Isn't that SO DIBBLE?_

_I'm also enclosing one of my chilly new business cards. We haven't talked in a while, so I figured I'd send you my phone number and my email address in one fell swoop. And don't forget to save the envelope- my address is on there, you silly-billy-goo-goo! Keep in touch!_

_Love always,_

_Mal_

I glanced down at the business card before I enclosed it with my letter. Right there in print, it said what I've always known I am, in my heart of hearts: _Mallory Pike, author_. It had been such a long journey to this point. Most of the older girls from the Baby-Sitter's Club had never believed in my dream of being a professional writer. They thought I was just a silly eleven-year old...gosh, I thought I'd be eleven forever! And after my Mom and Dad had another set of triplets, I thought my dreams of college were dashed for good. I got through it though- I got a scholarship and even graduated early! (I'm a bookworm, so I studied really hard, took lost of extra classes, and graduated early. My hometown, Stoneybrook, produces lots of very intelligent people, including Janine, the older sister of my friend Claudia from the BSC.) I paused for a moment and tried to picture everyone's reactions. What would they say when they found out about my awesome new book deal? And then there was Ben..._Ben Hobart!_ I know it sounds silly, in this age of email and text messaging, but I wanted Ben to find out first of all, and to find out in writing...my handwriting. Hand-written letters add so much to long-distance courtship. You get to see the person's handwriting, the paper they touched...a phone call or an email just isn't the same! I even sleep with Ben's letters under my pillow, just like the courageous pioneer heroine of my book _Tessa Mouse's Long-Distance Courtship_ does. You see, authors have to write what they know, from life. But enough about my dibble new career...for now, anyway.

Ben Hobart has been my sort-of boyfriend for almost ten years now. We met when I was eleven. For seven years we hung out in the library, went to dances, and did practically everything together. After we got to college, it became much more difficult to sort-of see each other. I know that not every man wants to get married right away and have eleven children (yup, you read that right- _eleven_, including two sets of triplets) the way my father did, so I've always been patient with Ben. I just finished school last May, and he's not even graduating for a few more months, after all. I'm hopeful that when he gets my letter, he'll realize what a catch I am- I've got a whole series of books about Tessa and her mouse family planned, and the publisher seems very excited about it. And if Ben doesn't feel that way, I'll just "run into him" when I'm back in town for the second triplets' birthday next month. You see, I was always frumpy-looking as a kid, but since college, I've really grown into my looks. When Ben finally sees me, he'll be totally bowled over!

Of course, even though I'm well on my way to becoming a famous author, I haven't really made that much money from that career yet. (At least, not enough to cover the rent on my swanky new digs in New York City!) So after I sealed up the letter and affixed the proper postage (I really miss the stamps you had to lick...it was almost like sending Ben a kiss!) I checked myself in the mirror, put on my coat, and left for my day job...as, believe it or not, a _model_!


	2. Chapter 2: Claudia

Disclaimer: The BSC is Ann M. Martin's creation. This fic is just a pale imitation of some classic literature.

_Dear Kristy,_

_I'm writig too you jest like you suckjestid, two improov my spelung. Hopfuly this time I rote youre addres write. Its so embarusing when Alun Grey brings bac my lettres and sez that he cant delivur them. I no hes jest being a jurk. Thank you so much for helping me to surch for a job._

_LUV, _

_Klawdeea_

Kristy and I are the last two members of the Baby-Sitter's Club. Last year when Kristy was on maternity leave, it was all up to me to hold down the fort! I made so much money that I nearly bought out the art supplies store, and ate so much junk food that I actually broke out for once. Of course, my parents kind of got the wrong idea, and started to charge me rent. I explained that it was _my_ money, and who were they to tell me how to spend it? They said if Kristy and I were so close, why didn't I go live in her mansion for a change? Well, that was just the last straw- my personal phone line is really important to the club; how could we ever have a meeting anywhere but my room? When I said that, my mom just started crying, and it was totally stale, until suddenly the phone rang Kristy's mom called and told us the good news: she'd had a healthy baby boy! (I ate a couple chocolate cupcakes to celebrate!) Being in the Baby-Sitter's Club has always brought me luck. Sure, there have been some tough times, like when I had to go back to seventh grade, but I've always had my friends right nearby to help me out, too. Whether they're comforting me after a grandparent's death or delivering a baby just in the nick of time, my BSC friends are always there for me.

Or at least they used to be. By the time I finished high school everyone else was in their second year of college. Well, except for Mal and Jessi, but they weren't real members, and Mary Anne. Mary Anne was always a little too sensitive for her own good, and...well, I don't really understand what happened, but let's just say it got her into trouble. Luckily Kristy went to college right here in good old Stoneybrook, and kept the club going. She's very entreprenurial; In addition to her duties as club president, she owns two small businesses, and her little-league instructional video has sold over 30,000 copies! After she had her baby I joked that now _she'd_ have to start using the BSC, but so far she hasn't asked me to sit. She says that after the tenth anniversary later this year we're going to have to give it up, and that's why she's helping me with my writing. She wants me to learn business letters, cover letters, and a bunch of other stuff. She even makes me mail them to her, so I can practice addressing envelopes. (She thinks of everything! Imagine if I wrote a whole business letter, and totally forgot that my stamp designs aren't valid postage?) That awful Alan Gray is our mail carrier now, and he just loves to torment me by saying my envelopes are unreadable, or that I have to put down a Zip Code or something. I know I haven't sold any artwork yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not an artist! Some non-artistic people (ALAN GRAY) will never understand that writing in glitter, or special cursive letters, or invisible ink, is a nice way to personalize a letter. I guess I'm just glad I'm not a creep with no imagination like that awful Alan Gray. I bet he doesn't even have anyone to write to! Ugh, now I'm going to have to eat an entire bag of cheetos just to erase the memory of how horrid he is...


	3. Chapter 3: Kristy

A/N: Ann M. Martin is the genius behind the BSC books. This fic is just an imitation of her masterpieces! Also, the "Mike" character isn't actually based on anyone. The name was picked because it's so generic, and the time period of his playing days is also deliberately vague.

_Dear Mike,_

_Just wanted to let you know how much I love you. Also, make sure to check that you turned the stove off before you come upstairs._

_XOXO_

_Your Kristylicious Missus_

_P.S. RROWR!_

My husband Mike has some memory problems sometimes; I'm not sure if it's due to the fact that he got hit in the head with a couple line drives during his days as a ballplayer, or if it's more his age. You see, Mike played professional baseball back when my Mom was the age that I was when I started the Baby-Sitter's Club. I don't really mind his mind, (try saying _that_ five times fast!) though; we enjoy leaving each other spicy little notes all over the house. (He thinks I'm gorgeous even if I do wear tshirts and jeans every day.)

When I first got involved with Mike, a lot of people had a hard time understanding. But my friends from the BSC stood right by me. Claudia was glad that there was someone new to come to our meetings. She even tried to get Mike to be the new Treasurer, but it really didn't work out. Mary Anne was so happy for me that she cried for about a week, and told me that she knows some people just don't understand what she calls 'forbidden love'. Stacey kind of has a thing for older guys (she went out with my brother Sam when we were in 8th grade, even though he was in highschool), anyway, so she got it. She was especially excited to find out that we met on the set of a commercial Sam was directing. (He says he can get her into films, but I don't know if I believe it.) Dawn adores Mike because he's a vegetarian (although that's really more because his doctors put him on a special diet for his heart...don't tell her this, but he used to love hunting and fishing), and Abby likes him because he laughs at her "punny" jokes. Mallory and Jessi weren't invited to the wedding, and Shannon's husband is even older than mine! My mom cried a lot about it when I announced our engagement, and at first when I told her how exciting it was to touch all four bases with someone who hit 300+ homers during a great era of baseball, she just cried even harder. But since then, she's really come around. She even gave me one of his rookie cards that she had when she was a kid (who knew I got my sporty-ness from my Mom?) for a wedding present. (I keep it in my wallet.) Bart was kind of disgusted that I "threw him over" (as he put it) for "some old geezer" (again, those are his words) but I bet it's just sour grapes because he wasn't even good enough to play college ball. (They use cheesy metal bats in college ball, too- in my family, it's wood all the way, baby! Bart is such a wussy.)

Last July we welcomed our first son, Mike Jr, and we've already got another kid on the way! Sometimes when I'm struggling to get out the door in the mornings with my addled husband and squalling child I wish there were some qualified sitters I could call, but honestly there's no one in town who I trust. (Not even Claudia, but don't tell her I said that!) I tried to get some of my former charges to take over the club, but according to them it's not "cool" to baby-sit. Imagine them thinking that- they had seven (well, Mal and Jessi don't really count, Stacey was off in NYC a lot, and Dawn was only there off-and-on, but in the end with Logan and Shannon and Abby I guess it all averages out) great role models who were just a phone call away. And we even had Kid Kits!

I can handle kids, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's just like my husband says: "These # young people today!"


	4. Chapter 4: Mary Anne

Disclaimer: The BSC is Ann M. Martin's creation. This fic is just a pale imitation of some classic literature.

_Dear Cam,_

_I write to you every year on our anniversary, and I'm not even sure if you're getting these letters. Maybe that's one way to define "crazy." Because that's how I feel about you, Cam Geary, movie star: head over heels, nutty as a fruitcake, however the poets say it; the point is, I can't stop thinking about you. I love you, Cammie! I've never stopped wearing your ring, and I'll always wait for you! _

_Come back to me, lover!_

_All the love in my heart, _

_Mary Anne_

The only thing I know for sure about Cam Geary's whereabouts is that he is in New York City. I have an address for him, but I don't know how old it is, or who might intercept my letter. I tried to remember some sleuthing techniques; back in junior high, my BSC friends and I had solved a number of mysteries. If only I had read Nancy Drew novels, like Claudia! If only I were an aspiring actress, like Stacey! If only I were married to an influential old man, like Kristy...oh, the list will drag on forever if I don't get down to it. The truth is, Cam Geary needs me; he may not want to hear it, he may not see it, he may not smell the smell of his favourite perfume upon my neck, or feel the soft caress of my hands, or taste the cherry of the lip gloss that I apply every morning (it's his favourite) but I'm confident that one day he will, again. He did, and he loved it- all of it- but then our love was torn asunder. You know how in wedding vows, they say that "asunder" part? (I don't remember it exactly; I was too nervous during my wedding to Cam to recall the exact words.) Well, that's the part he needs to be reminded of!

Any man who stands between us...well, but he is the man who brought us together...but no, it isn't right! No longer will I sit back in the shadows, a cowering mousy youth. I must fight for my lover, and fight I shall! I just need to get Dawn, my stepsister, on the phone. She's the one who helped me see the light, after all...maybe she can help Cam, too.


	5. Chapter 5: Mallory

_Dear Mallory,_

_We haven't heard from you in forever, sweetie, and quite frankly we're worried about you in the big city all alone. _

_We saw you in our JC Penney catalog last month- the second triplets were so excited! They miss their big sister!_

_Claudia is coming to sit on Wednesday. It's the ten-year anniversary of the BSC (imagine that!) so Kristy and Claudia have reverted to the same rates they charged when the club first started. Kristy is expecting yet another bundle of joy; her husband was very successful before he retired, you know, and so is she. They live in a mansion, and it seems they'll have tons of kids. (Just so you know.) Mrs Brewer must be so excited about being a grandmother. Charlie and Sam are dragging their feet, of course, but men usually do when it comes to reproducing. With daughters it's different. (Well, usually it is...) I was talking to Kristy the other day and it seems she and Mike first met when she was in her third year of college. It made me think about how you finished in only three years. (Good for you!) But sometimes, honey, I worry that you don't have any social life, except for your library boyfriends._

_Anyway, I know I can't wait to be a grandma! Well, if it doesn't happen soon, I suppose we can just give all the baby stuff to Kristy._

_Take care Mall!_

_Love, Mom, Fatima, Pilar, and Gaudalupe (Dad would say hi too, but he's at work!)_

I couldn't believe it when I got the letter from my mom. Well, no- it wasn't a letter- it was a foul and impersonal email! I couldn't believe it when she unleashed her bile on me. Sure, Kristy's married and Claudia's still sitting. So what? I swear, my Mom thinks babies are everything! She even gave the second triplets matching Spanish names associated with the Virgin Mary, all because she loves them better than me!

Well, we'll see who's laughing when my book comes out. I don't even know if I'm going to share the exciting book news with her; I think I'd rather see the look on her face when it sells millions of copies and win scads of awards. Maybe I'll mention everyone but her in my acceptance speeches: after all ten of my siblings, my BSC friends, and Ben, they'll undoubtedly cut the power to my mic. Anyway, her message of hate has given me ideas for an upcoming book: _Tessa Mouse's Mother has Galloping Consumption_. In this one, Tessa's mother tragically falls ill and dies. Tessa doesn't find out in time for the funeral (back in the olden days, mail delivery was even slower than now) but her kindly mother appears to her in a dream and reassures her that she's at peace. I even have the climactic moment of truth already written.

_"Tessa, my only child," spake Mother Mouse, "I have gone on to better things. Worry not, my sole beloved relation! Build your life as you see fit. You are a strong pioneer mouse, and you do your family proud! Keep your bonnet wrapped tight about you, and you will not perish in a sandstorm. Goodbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyee."_

_Tessa awoke with a start. Her mother was dead; she cried a few tears, and then remembered what the wise old mouse had said. Tessa knew that she was strong, and that she must wear her bonnet as her mother had directed. The next day she followed her mother's instructions regarding her headgear, and a lucky thing it was! By noon, Old Mr Cluck the rooster had lost an eye in a terrible sandstorm._

_"Tessa, Tessa, what will I do?" asked Old Mr Cluck, his good eye blinking frantically._

_"I will make you a bonnet," said Tessa bravely, "and you must wrap it tight about you, and you will not perish in a sandstorm."_

_"Oh brave little pioneer mouse! What would I do without you!" A tear escaped Old Mr Cluck's good eye as he saluted his courageous young friend with his old grey wing._

_Tessa said nothing. She merely hugged his scaly yellow leg, and thought of her mother._

So you see, unselfish parenting is always best. (Knowing how to spell your daughter's name never hurt, either.)

Today I saw Stacey McGill (imagine that!) on the street, and we stopped into a charming little restaurant for some burgers. I know she's very New York and sophisticated, but it was surprising to see her all the same. She seemed really worried about her diabetes; I hope she's not having any complications. I gave her one of my business cards, too, (I _do_ have a box of 1,500, after all) so maybe we can go out for lunch again sometime. I was practically about to overflow with my good news about the book, but then I remembered the promise I made to myself: Ben has to know first.

It's been two days and no word from him, by the way. I bet he calls to congratulate me right when he opens the letter!


	6. Chapter 6: Dawn

_Dear Dawn,_

_That's a wonderful thing you did for Mary Anne. I have to say, I never thought I'd see my daughter again...I know I haven't been a perfect stepfather, but please know that I hold you in high regard._

_Best wishes,_

_Richard_

I tossed the thank-you card into the recycling bin with a scowl on my face; why should a tree have to die just so Mr Spier can get something off his chest? Here in California everyone knows that greeting cards are practically acts of war against our environment. I resolved to fire off an email to him tonight, urging him to look into more Earth-friendly communications in the future. Of course, if Mary Anne were around, she'd encourage me to appreciate the sentiment...lately she'd been a basketcase, though. As I was mulling things over, the phone rang.

"Dawn-Dawn it's me! _Mary Anne!_" She was whispering as though she were afraid of being overheard.

I rolled my eyes. "I think I know what my own stepsister's voice sounds like, Mary Anne! Geez. What do you want, and why are you whispering?"

"Oh Dawn, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. It's about my husband, Cam Geary! He's in New York City, and he needs our help!"

I rolled my eyes again. Marriage is such a goofy institution. Who would want to spend the rest of her life with some creepy, lumbering oaf like Cam Geary anyway? "Okay, Mary Anne. Let me just book a flight...I'll call you back with the details as soon as I can."

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you_, Dawn! You're the best!" It was clear she was crying.

I sighed, poured myself a cup of fair-trade coffee, and got to work. Luckily I'm used to being bicoastal, so flying to Connecticut wasn't a big deal to me at all. I finished my coffee, knowing that it was the last cup I'd have for a while. (In Stoneybrook no one's even _heard_ of fair-trade coffee!) I made a few phone calls to some people in high places, and just like that I was on my way.


	7. Chapter 7: Stacey

_Dear Claud,_

_You'll never believe who I ran into today- **Mallory Pike**! She looked pretty awful, so I just had to take her to lunch and find out what was up. I'm really pretty worried about her...oh, why am I even writing you this postcard, I know I'll just break down and call you tonight! Anyway, howdy from the "Big Apple"! _

_LUV, _

_Stacey_

The truth is, even though I know I'll end up calling Claudia, I like to send her postcards from the city anyway. I want to remind her of our days in junior high and high school when we did lots of interesting things together. I know she's still in the BSC and everything, but it's not like they go on trips or solve mysteries anymore; it's just Claud listening to Kristy complain about her swollen ankles and morning sickness, shoveling junk food down her gullet the whole time. And well, let's face it, Claud's metabolism has slowed down quite a bit- she's not the svelte teen she once was. Her hair is losing its healthy shine, too. I know she burns a lot more calories decorating her clothing than she used too (she practically has to wear muumuus now, in case you didn't get the hint) but a lot of obese adults develop diabetes, and I don't want Claud to have to go through that. Sure, it's a different type than what I have, but still, diabetes is diabetes, and it's no picnic. Also, at her size her choices in terms of style are quite limited. She's very creative, but there's only so much she can do. Anyway, to make a long story short, I'm trying to inspire Claud to give up her reclusive lifestyle and get a real job, and I ran into Mal today on the streets of NYC.

At first I wasn't even sure it was her...she wasn't wearing glasses, and her hair is not only straight, but a golden blond color that is all wrong for her complexion. When I saw her warm smile, though, I recognized her at once.

"Stacey McGill!" she hollered, "Is it really you?"

At first I was a little peeved at her for shouting like that, but then I noticed that something was off.

"Oh, wow, Mal, hey!" I said, as she pulled me into a bear hug. It was pretty embarrassing- in New York we're so sophisticated that you don't really see that kind of thing a lot. I didn't want anyone to think I was a tourist or something. Prying myself away from her iron grip, I invited her to lunch.

We settled into a booth at a nice little restaurant and ordered some burgers and cokes. (Well, I had to have a Diet Coke, of course, with my diabetes.) As I looked across the table I noticed what was different- _Mallory Pike had no eyebrows._

Oh. My. Lord. I'm not a doctor or anything (I work at Bloomingdale's but I want to be an actress someday), but I've spent enough time in hospitals (sad but true) to know that when the eyebrows go, there's something up. As Mal chattered away about her new apartment, I refreshed the detective skills that had lain fallow since my BSC days. Mal had no eyebrows...that hair had to be a wig...she looked much thinner, almost gaunt even. The solution hit me as hard and fast as a ton of bricks would, if you dropped them from the top of the Empire State Building. Did one of my best- well, we weren't really friends, but we had spent all that time together back in Stoneybrook- did one of my oldest acquaintances have _cancer_? Or maybe even _AIDS_? I had never felt so awful; I knew that Mal had always wanted sophisticated style and fluffy hair, and I had never been very nice to her. I was pretty sure that in addition to being able to wrangle kids, Mal probably had lots of other talents, too. And whatever she can or can't contribute to this crazy world, she's certainly too young to die! As she took a sip of her sugar-laden Coke, I asked her how she was in my best thoughtful, but concerned tone. (I'm an actress, so I really know how to use my voice effectively.)

"I'm fine, Stacey, how are you?" Even though she looked to be at death's door, the sparkle in her eyes hadn't faded.

"Oh, me? I'm wonderful. I'm doing really well, managing my diabetes." I paused for a moment and ate a fry- the silence was so thick and heavy that you could have whipped it into a milkshake. "Mal, if you don't mind my asking, um, what happened to your eyebrows?"

She laughed. "Oh, I just got back from this exhausting shoot. It's the first really artsy one that I've done. They shaved off my brows and messed with my hair, and I had to wear this crazy dress made entirely of feathers. It was pretty crazy. I must've forgotten to pencil some back on!"

I nearly lost my lunch. Mallory Pike couldn't expect me to believe she knew anything about makeup, let alone modeling, could she? Can you imagine? She looked _terrible!_ Models are beautiful, like me, and they have wonderful fluffy hair, like mine. Mallory's kind of tall, and she's so skinny that she's terribly gawky looking, especially in the frumpy thrift-store looking clothing she wears. Of course she's not as dowdy as Claudia's sister Janine, but she's not exactly pleasant to look at. I tried to imagine why she'd tell such a lie. Maybe all her medication was making her delusional. Maybe she was too embarassed to come clean about her illness?

"Mal," I said, "I know I'm only two years older than you are, but this is the best advice I have for someone in your position: pretending an illness doesn't exist won't make it go away. Take my diabetes, for example. I remember being so horrified after wetting the bed at Laine's. I remember being afraid to tell the BSC about my health. Mal, you can't let any disease get you down or make you forget who you are. Every day, when I look in the mirror, I say to myself _You can handle this!_ Remember that, okay?" When I said that last part, I reached across the table and squeezed her hand with feeling, just like I had done in a play last year. She fell oddly silent and I knew I had connected with her on a truly meaningful level. The check came, interrupting our moment, but it was probably for the best. It was a pretty heavy conversation; I almost had an attack of Mary Anne-style tears!

I insisted on paying for Mallory's burger, but she was kind of insulted I think. She even gave me a business card, and said that we'd stay in touch and that next time we met for lunch, she'd pay. I wondered how much time she actually had left, and made a mental note to call her next week. When I looked down at the card, my heart broke harder than it ever could over any man. (Well, except for Austin Bentley, maybe. That had been a hard fall!) Poor Mallory, ever the optimist, had listed her occupation as _author_. As I walked back to my apartment I studied the card closely. Mallory was so determined, such a survivor- her treatment must be so time-consuming, and clearly she was too weak to work. _Her drive for writing must be all that keeps her going,_ I thought. I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight, with visions of brave, emaciated Mallory running through my head.


	8. Chapter 8: Jessi

_Hey, it's Jessi Ramsey! (That's short for Jessica, just so you know.) I'm either not in right now, or I'm busy practicing on the barre that my dad installed in my apartment. (I'm a ballet student!) Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible._

_**BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!**_

_Hey-heyJessiit's Mal and I can't- snort - ohmygawdJessi are you there? It's impo-or-or-ortant! OhmygodmylifeisOVER! I really need some-someone to talk to if you could call me back as soon as you ge-_

_**BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!**_

I had just gotten in from my ballet rehearsal when I checked my answering machine messages and heard my best friend Mallory falling apart on the phone. I couldn't believe it- in spite of the fact that Mal's white and I'm black, we're practically the same person! We're both very artistic, intelligent, and great with kids. Usually when she's really sad or happy I get a feeling in my gut and I just _know_ something's up with her. But today I hadn't felt anything at all...maybe she was playing a prank on me? Except she's not the prankster type, and that still didn't answer the most pressing question: why hadn't my roommate Quint answered the phone? He'd been home all afternoon!

"QUINT!" I shouted, throwing a throw pillow at him, (maybe that's how they got their name!) "Why on earth didn't you pick up when you heard how AWFUL she sounds!"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Jessica, I'm not your secretary! And you know I'm not good at dealing with these sorts of," he paused, searching for the right words, "emotional outbursts!"

I had never been so angry with Quint! Not even back when we were going out, and I caught him kissing someone else (more on that later).

"That's simply not true! Remember when we were snowed in and you talked to those boys about how you used to get beat up for being a dancer?"

"That was different!"

I folded my arms across my chest and stamped my right foot. It was childish, I know, but I was oh-so-angry at him. Why was he being so stale, anyway? "Quint, you had to carry your dance clothes in a _bowling bag_. Mallory sounds just humiliated in that message- you must know how she's feeling."

Quint smiled dreamily. "I still have that bag."

I turned my back on him and scowled. "Bowling has to be even dorkier than ballet as far as 11 year old boys are concerned. I bet they just pounded you harder."

Quint scoffed again. "You're just jealous because I at least know how to accessorize!"

I know that Quint's a metrosexual and takes his appearance very seriously, but this was going too far. That was _it_ for me. All the bickering was doing nothing to help my friend, and Quint's insensitivity was giving me a case of the blues. I stormed out of the room, grabbed some of my things, stuffed them into a duffel bag, and put on my jacket.

"Have fun with your purse collection!" I shouted at him.

"Have fun at Mallory's." said Quint, in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.

I slammed the apartment door behind me. Sometimes I just don't know what to think about him!


	9. Chapter 9: Mary Anne

_The Heartfelts seek to bring enlightenment to a cold and unfeeling world._

_The leader of the Heartfelts, Dr. G. Ive Comfort, has found a scientific way to bring peace to the tormented souls of modern humans._

_Don't you want to get back in touch with your emotions? How many people and organizations in this world turn a cold shoulder to your pain and suffering? How many reject your loving concern? The Heartfelts want to help. The Heartfelts want to make the world a better place._

_Come to a meeting and hear Dr Comfort's plan. If you don't get a new and hopeful outlook - if you don't feel refreshed to your core and cleansed- you'll at least get a free armband. Wearing the felt heart on your sleeve for only two weeks can make a huge difference in how you function in the world. It can help you heal! Learn to do your part: remind your parents and co-workers of their cold intolerance for emotion. Work to make the world a warmer, brighter place. It will reward you with Heartfelt Gratitude, and a place among the chosen in Paradise._

_We look forward to welcoming you into our family._

I looked down at the pamphlet and had to fight to hold back my tears. I thought I had gotten rid of everything that would remind me of that time in my life, but no, I hadn't. It was there in the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. I remembered the man who had handed it to me: Logan Bruno, my ex-boyfriend.

"Mar-uh Ay-un!" he'd shouted, running across the Quad, "I have somethin' fer yew!"

"Logan!" I had been astonished; I hadn't seen him in ages! "Is it really you?"

"Yep, in the flesh!" he gave me a warm hug.

"Oh Logan, I can't imagine why we ever broke up!" I was feeling so emotional; it was my first week at West Connecticut State University (I left after only one more), and I had never really lived away from home. (Well, I guess if you count all those trips with the BSC I had, but they were kind of family, too, and Dawn's actually my stepsister!) I was feeling kind of lonely and it was so good to see a friendly face.

"I know what yew mean," said Logan, his drawl thicker than ever, "I cain't imagine anyone who'd pass up love!"

"We were so silly-say, I'm done with classes for the day, would you like to get a coffee?"

"Why, sure thing, Mar-uh Ay-un! I want to talk to yew about this wonderful new organization ahm involved in, anyhow."

"A new organization?" I said, "Oh Logan, that'd be great! It'd be like being in the BSC together all over again!"

He just smiled. At the café he told me he couldn't have caffeine anymore- at first I was worried he had a terrible disease, like Stacey with her diabetes- but then he told me it was because of his new-found faith. We talked about the Heartfelts for hours and he gave me that flyer. It changed my life- in some good ways, and some not so good-forever. I realized college wasn't for me and dropped out, with Logan, the next week. I met Cam Geary at a Heartfelts meeting a month later in New York City, and we discovered that we had so much in common. Cam was so disillusioned with the Hollywood lifestyle, and hated how everything there was so unemotional and materialistic. He had been urged by his agents and directors to "stop being so sensitive!" Can you imagine what the world would be like without Cam Geary movies? Horrible, right? But it got so bad he even wanted to quit acting, until Dr. Comfort and I convinced him not to.

"The Heartfelts are about love, and you love acting, don't you, my son?"

"Why yes," Cam answered, "but Hollywood is eating my soul!"

"Well, maybe you can help to change the system- you, Mary Anne, and your new, extended Heartfelt family!"

Dr Comfort was so proud whenever Cam and I showed up at premieres wearing our hearts on our sleeves. He eventually officiated at our wedding, at the Heartfelt Ranch in Upstate New York, which is where most of the Heartfelts live full-time. We spent our time together in total bliss, confident that we were learning so much together, and trying very hard to start a nuclear family of our own.

But then I started to realize that some things were off. I guess my mystery-solving skills from my BSC days had become innate- one day I realized Dr Comfort's name must have been fake. I mean, it spells GIVE COMFORT, and that seems pretty unlikely in a real name your parents would give you. Cam's new lifestyle rubbed some Hollywood folks the wrong way, and he stopped getting so much work. I began to realize that some of those casting people actually made good points in their screamed tirades into our voice mail. Also, Cam was making millions but it was all going to the Heartfelts. It felt weird to be reduced to eating rice and beans, and more than one of the doctors I consulted thought my poor diet might be partly to blame for my inability to conceive. (One of them took pity on me and gave me some supplements; I couldn't even afford to pay her!) The last six months we spent together were at the Heartfelt Ranch. I came to see it wasn't such a great place after all. Logan died under suspicious circumstances, for one thing, and they never found his body. It was right after he'd gone home for a visit. When he'd come back, he was full of questions, and he even seemed a little angry sometimes. The night before he died, he'd gotten into an argument with Dr Comfort. He even tore off his felt heart armband and threw it in his face!

After my first love died tragically, I contacted Dawn and asked her to help me and Cam leave the Ranch. When I told Cam about my plan, though, he wouldn't come along.

"Mary Anne," he said, "I'll always love you, I'll always honor my vows, and I'll be here waiting for you to come back."

With a final smooch of passion and one last quick, lusty embrace, we were separated. It's been a little over two years, now, and two of our wedding anniversaries have gone by. (Three of our first date anniversaries, though.) I write to him on each and every significant day: the anniversary of our first Heartfelt Harvest at the Ranch, the anniversary of our meeting, the anniversary of his first starring role, and so on. Sometimes I even make up an anniversary, just for an excuse to send him a card. (Dawn says that what I'm doing is tantamount to cutting down a forest, but I don't care) He never writes back, so I can't be sure he's getting them, but I'm confident that he's being true to me. I know that he's in NYC filming a guest appearance on a soap now, and in one of his interviews with a soap mag he mentioned that he hoped some day I'd come back to him.

Hopefully Dawn and I would get through to him...if not, I wasn't sure what I'd do. I hope that telling him about our baby- Geary Spier- will help to change his mind. I hadn't even known I was pregnant back when Dawn rescued me, and now I'd had to move around (stealthily, just like my cat Tigger used to) with my son. I'm finally back in Stoneybrook, (Dawn says the heat is off) but by now I've used so many aliases that I barely know who I am, anymore!

As I placed Geary in his carseat, I told him that we were going to have quite an adventure.

"Aunt Dawn and I are going to rescue Daddy, just like superheroes, and you'll get to spend the day with your Auntie Claudia!"

"Gwah!" said Geary. I guess he was confused, because he'd never met Claud before.

I was going to leave Geary with Claud, pick up Dawn at the airport, leave the car at a Park-n-Ride andtake the train into the city to find Cam. I thought it sounded like a needlessly convoluted plan, but Dawn told me that public transport is better for the environment than using cars, and that even the fight against the Heartfelts can't take precedence over Mother Earth.

I, however, was most concerned about my son. I was hopeful that Geary'd be safe for the day; I had never left him with a sitter before, and even though Dawn thought the cult wouldn't try to nab him, I wasn't so sure.


End file.
